Rainbow Boys
by Two-Bits
Summary: SLASH! Spot switches into an all-boys' school. Things get...complicated.
1. Homosexual High

Thanks to Jacky Higgins for BETA-ing.

* * *

Spot sighed, heavily and stared at the brick building in front of him. Metal letters positioned high on the building spelled out Manhattan Prep School. His latest foster parents were sending him there in hopes of doing something about his lack of education, which his genetic parents hadn't cared to provide for him.

He shut his eyes then tucked a thumb under the strap of his messenger bag and took tentative steps inside.

The bell had started ringing, shrilly just as Spot stepped into the main hallway. To his left was a door that read 'office.' He stepped inside, knocking on the door as he opened it.

The secretary was a thin-faced woman with orange curls wearing a purple suit jacket and skirt. She smiled, sweetly, and said, "Hello. You're Mister Conlon?" Spot nodded.

"Yeah. My parents couldn't come. They had to work this morning," he apologized. She nodded understandingly, clicking on a computer. The printer started and she handed him the sheet of paper that the printer had emitted.

"This is your schedule. Can you find the rooms on your own, or would you like me to assign an escort to you?" she asked. Spot shook his head.

"I'll find it on my own, thanks," Spot assured her. He thanked her again and stepped out of the office, glancing at his schedule.

The bell rang, telling him that homeroom was over. His first period was History in M303. Spot began walking down the hall, checking room numbers on the way. The place was huge, and Spot had a sinking feeling that it would take a month before he figured out where he was going.

By the time he had reached the G corridor, students were crowding around him. Apparently, the school was tight-knit enough that they recognized a new kid when they saw one. Another thing he noticed, which his foster parents forgot to mention, was that it was a boys' school.

The third thing he noticed (or rather, he couldn't miss) was that catcalls and wolf-whistles pierced the air over the chatter of students.

Spot's slumped shoulders straightened up in shock as somebody slapped him on the ass, murmuring, "Hey, sexy!"

The speaker was a tall boy with brown eyes and dark blonde hair hanging in his face. He wore a black cowboy hat and a red bandana around his neck. He was good-looking, but Straight-As-An-Arrow Spot was more than a little freaked out at so openly being hit on.

"Just ignore him," another voice said. Spot jumped and spun around, his hands immediately flying to protect his ass.

"Hey, chill out! I'm not gonna smack you." The boy was short and somewhat stocky. Italian, he had nice coloring and dark hair. The look was completed with a cocky grin.

"That was Jack Kelly, named from Jack-be-nimble, Jack-be-quick. He's nimble, he's quick, and you never see him until he's given you a pinch, or in your case, a smack. Most people refer to him as Cowboy." Spot decided not to touch _that_ innuendo.

"I'm Spot Conlon," he said, once he officially decided that the boy wasn't going to hit on him. He smiled.

"Racetrack Higgins. Welcome to Homosexual High."


	2. Yeah Me

Shoutouts!

Erin Go Bragh: I like it, too. My lips are sealed.

Autumn-Park: Thanks! Everybody loves that line!

Charlie Bird: SAMMY! Fear not, for I will indeed finish them!

Unknown-Dreams: I WOULD! Spot has a NICE ass!

XBeLLaViTaX: JADIUSH2, JADIUSH2, JADIUSH2, JADIUSH2, JADIUSH2! HAH! Eat it, sucker! Indeed he is! Man-Slut!Jack is SO fun!

DigitalAngel4U: NEW REVIEWER! Thankies!

* * *

"_What?_" Spot snapped. Race nodded and gestured toward the people around them.

"They don't tell you this, but this school has the most homosexuals in one school in New York. They can't tell you because somebody could sue for being prejudice, like Disney World can't tell you it's Gay Day," Racetrack explained. Spot eyes the students warily, keeping his ass facing the wall.

"Don't worry about it. None of them are like Cowboy," Race assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you…" Spot let the question hang in the air. Race gave a mysterious smile and began walking away. Afraid to so quickly lose the only friend he had at the school, Spot hurried to catch up with Racetrack.

"Race! Wait up!" Race stopped walking and turned a little to the left so Spot could see his profile of a perfect nose and full lips. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. It's fine if you are, just as long as you don't decide to take up Grabass as a new hobby." Race smiled.

"Don't worry. I won't. But I have to say, most of these guys probably will."

"So, what's the deal, exactly, around here?" Spot asked, sitting next to Racetrack at lunch. "You were a little vague. I need details." Race leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the table. He smirked.

"Well, this is a boys' school, obviously, and most of these boys are gay." He chuckled at the look on Spot's face. "I say 'most' because you're a student now. But not all of us are rainbow boys, like Jack. There's really only a couple you have to watch out for." He tilted his chair back on two legs.

"I'm going to laugh when you fall," Spot said. Race ignored him and pointed across the room to a boy who was blushing and giggling as another whispered in his ear.

"That's Mush. You probably won't have to watch out for him, because he's really into his boyfriend, Kid Blink. You're just going to have to watch out for them _together_. If both of them are interested, they might try and pull a threesome." Spot made a face and dropped his gaze when Mush winked at him.

"Geez…" Spot muttered. He lifted a hand to run his fingers through it, but he heard an audible gasp and decided against it. "I knew I was good-looking, but not _that_ good-looking." Race laughed, then pointed in the opposite direction of Blink and Mush. The boy was—

"Tall, dark, and handsome. That's Skittery. He's the silent, stoic type. He's a flamer, but he probably won't hit on you. He likes baby-ish looking guys." On cue, Skittery went into Flirt Mode as a childish looking boy with bucked teeth sat down.

"Jack's a given. He's King of the Flamers. Problem is he thinks he's king of the world. He's the school 'stud'…" Race paused to smirk at the irony of that statement. "…so he can get any guy he wants. _Your_ problem," Race said, jabbing Spot in the chest, "is that Jack wants _you_."

The force of Race jabbing Spot sent Racetrack toppling backwards and crashing to the floor. Spot burst into a fit of snickers, and Race shot him a glare. He smirked down at him.

"Any other flamers I should know about?" Race nodded.

"Yeah. Me."


	3. Straight Goes In, But He Never Comes Out

"Where's your schedule?" Racetrack asked after a long day of boring classes. Spot fished in his messenger bag and pulled out his slightly crumpled schedule. Race examined it, and his expression brightened. "You're my room mate! Cool!" Spot couldn't help giving a huge sigh of relief.

"_Good_. I was afraid I'd get stuck with Cowboy. It would be my luck!" Race laughed.

"You needn't have worried. Jack rooms with Kid Blink. My room mate left at the end of last year. He moved to Canada. I should've guessed you'd be in my dorm, but I didn't think about it."

Spot grinned, cheered at the prospect of

having a friend in his dorm and

not sharing a room with lustful!Jack.

He had a noticeable bounce in his step as they made their way to the dining hall for dinner.

"Laid claim to him, eh Racetrack?" said an all-too-familiar voice. Race and Spot both turned around to see Cowboy looking back at them. Cowboy gave Spot that longer-than-usual look, but he kept his hands to himself. Racetrack gave a short laugh at the idea.

"Get over it, Cowboy. This is one horse you're not going to ride." Spot grimaced at the innuendo that was screaming at him. "He's straight as an arrow." Jack laughed and rolled his tongue across his lips.

"You and I both know there's no such thing as 'straight' in this school," he replied, roughly. Spot frowned, jumping to defend his dignity.

"What are you talking about, Cowboy?" he snapped, roughly. Obviously amused at having the upper hand, Jack grinned.

"Oh, didn't dear Racetrack tell you?" He leaned down to whisper in Spot's ear. "A straight comes in, but he doesn't come out."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Spot asked, conscious of how close Jack was.

"No straight guy ever _stays_ straight," Jack replied, and he nipped Spot's ear. Spot jerked away and glared at him, but Jack walked off with a smile.

"Ew. Ew ew ew ew ew. GROSS!" Spot squirmed, rubbing his ear. Racetrack shook his head.

"He's always been like that. He'll be like that till his last dying day," he muttered. Spot growled.

"Well, if he ever touches me again, I'll slug him. You done?" Spot added, setting aside his fork. Race nodded and stood up. They set their dishes over on the "drop off" table and left the dining hall.

"Crap," Race muttered. "I have to write that paper for Denton." Spot jerked his head up.

"We have a _paper_ to write?" he shrieked, obviously concerned that he had forgotten. Race gave a wry smile.

"_I_ do, _you _don't. This isn't the beginning of school, remember? You're a week late."

"Oh yeah…" Racetrack opened the door and entered the room, which was incredibly messy, just the way Spot liked it.

"Welcome home," he said. Spot glanced around the room. It was a lot like his room, except for the poker table in the corner. "You play poker?" Race asked. Spot nodded, eagerly.

"Yeah. That's one of the reasons my foster parents sent me here. Gambling and all that," he replied, dropping his stuff on the bottom bunk. Race laughed.

"Well, we can play any time you like," he said, sitting down in front of the computer. "And you can get on the computer whenever, assuming I'm not on. Specs and Dutchy, who're next door, have internet access, and I can get theirs from here. Just no porno or whatever," he added, making a face. Spot nodded and stretched out on his bed, talking while Race typed.

"What about the stereo?" he asked. Race glanced at it, then resumed typing.

"What kind of music do you like?" Race asked.

"I don't know. I never got to listen to music," Spot admitted. Racetrack spun in his seat and stared at Spot.

"_No music!_" he gasped. "You poor thing! Well, I'll teach you some culture. You'll like the best stuff in no time!" Race said, happy that Spot didn't conflict with his musical tastes. He clicked 'play' on the remote, and the "culture" poured out of the speakers.

"_Broadways?_" Spot asked, skeptically. Race grinned.

"I _am_ a flamer," he said, twisting around in his chair to continue his work on his paper. Spot sat up, remembering what Jack said.

"Race?"

"Mmhmm?"

"What Cowboy said…Is it true?" Spot asked hesitantly.

Racetrack didn't answer.


	4. ManSlut Attack!

"So, what's the deal with Cowboy, anyway?" Spot asked as he and Race walked toward English class. "I mean, how can he get away with frickin' _everything?_" Racetrack shrugged.

"Because he rules the school. Anything he says, goes. He's even got the _faculty_ wrapped around his finger," Race said, holding up said digit in demonstration. Spot frowned.

"Well, we'll have to change that, won't we?" he said with a grin. Race opened his mouth to agree, but a light bulb apparently went off in his head, because he yelped, "Shit! I forgot to print my paper!"

"Do you want me to come with you?" Spot called as Race dashed up the stairs.

"Nah, you go ahead!" Race shouted back. Spot turned to face the hallway, and took a few hesitant steps, as if prepared to be mauled by rabid rainbow boys.

Though Spot would not admit it, Race had become his unofficial body guard in the short time he had spent with him. Spot depended on Race's protection to keep molesters away, and now that he didn't have it, he felt naked…

…in a school full of lustful gay boys.

However, most of the boys had figured out that he was off-limits—either he was straight, or Race had laid claim to him. Though Spot didn't like the idea of the latter, he wasn't complaining. As long as nobody grabbed his ass—

"What the—?"

Spot was slammed up against the lockers, Cowboy's face grinning back at him. He opened his mouth to say something nasty, but that was probably his worst move. With his left hand, Jack tilted his head up and pressed his lips against Spot's his tongue invading Spot's mouth.

Jack's right hand found Spot's ass and gave it a squeeze before running down his thigh. His hand pulled his leg up as it moved, and he stopped with his hand hooked under his knee, the inside of his thigh pressed against his own leg.

Spot whimpered and Jack grinned against his lips. Spot cursed Jack Kelly and every family member he ever had, or would have, as horrible memories came to the surface, triggered by Jack's assault.

Just when Spot thought he was going to suffocate under Cowboy's mouth, Jack pulled away from him. Instead, he tackled Spot's neck, sucking on delectable curves and crevices he deemed worthy of such actions.

"You…_bastard_," Spot hissed. Cowboy bit on his neck, and Spot winced in a mix cause of disgust, pain, and the fact that he was probably going to have ten hickeys in the morning. "Get the _fuck_ away from me!" Spot shouted. He punched Cowboy in the gut, slammed his foot down on Jack's, punched him in the nose, and kneed him in the groin.

"Keep your paws off of me, Cowboy!" he shouted, shoving Jack to the floor.

"What happened?" Spot looked up and saw Race staring from Spot to Jack."This _man-slut_ frickin' _assaulted_ me!" Spot exclaimed. Race grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd that had formed around Jack. He dragged Spot into an empty classroom.

"What happened?" Race muttered. Spot made a face and wrapped his arms around his thin body.

"Cowboy made up a new game. It's a mix between Grabass and Let's-See-How-Far-I-Can-Shove-My-Tongue-Down-Spot's-Throat."

Spot was so freaked, he was literally _shaking_. Race noticed this and exclaimed, "You're white!" Spot looked at him, helplessly, and Racetrack pulled him into a tight hug.

Spot buried his face in Race's neck as hot tears began to fill his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Race's waist and sobbed into his shoulder. When he pulled away, Race gave him an assuring smile and squeezed his hands.

"Come on. Denton won't miss us."

"Where're we going?" Spot demanded, following Race out the back door.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures: we're getting _ice cream_." Spot stopped and stared at him. Race grabbed his hand and hissed, "Someone will see you!"

"_Ice cream?_ That's your brilliant plan? I figured you'd call your mafia family and get them to take Cowboy out!" Race grinned, amused at the idea of a mafia family.

"They're on Vacation," he replied, flippantly. "Just trust me. It's the best ice cream in the world. You'll feel _much_ better. And then you'll be kissing my feet and praising me for my almightiness." Spot snorted and climbed into the passenger seat of Race's truck, a beat up red Dodge with a diesel engine that sang like an angel.

"Over my dead and brutally beaten body," Spot chuckled. Racetrack grinned.

"That can be arranged," he replied, exaggerating his Italian accent. Spot laughed and propped his feet up on the dash board.

"So, where're we going?" he asked, giving Race a sideways glance. Race shifted gears before answering.

"Maggie Moo's. Best ice cream around. Better, even, than Ben & Jerry's." Spot sat up.

"_Nobody_ is as good as Ben & Jerry!" he exclaimed.

"Maggie Moo's is. More flavors…Fresher ingredients…" Race licked his lips. "It's the best place for a cute date." Spot shuddered at the thought and Race's smile vanished. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"It's fine. It's just…I'm just weirded out, that's all," Spot said, finally. Race nodded in understanding and pulled into the parking lot. He turned off the car and pulled out the keys.

"Well, everything will be fine in a minute. You're about to experience perfection in it's coldest form."


	5. Nightmare

WARNING: This is kinda'...implied graphic. You'll understand when you read it. Just wanted to give you fair warning, in case you squick.

Shoutouts!

itsasledgehammer: Yeah, KBlush is hard to find. I have one called I Wish I Was Queer So I Can Get Chicks. I don't remember if you've read that or not. But it's KBlush-y. NOT GABE DAMON! -sobs-

Slightly: A moment of silence for our fallen Brooklynite.

-silence-

DigitalAngel4U: Wow. I completely forgot about Davvy's existence! ... -evil grin- A plan has just formed, however.

Slightly: -rolls eyes- You're such a drama queen.

Shut it, you.

Nanii: Yay! You didn't die!

Maeko-Nohara: Aww...Interesting HOW! -freaks out-

Nosilla: Nozzy, dearest...You're scaring me.

Pancakes: Ick. There's that word again. "Cute." But they are, indeed, cute.

alesca munroe: Yeah, sorry babe, but I live in terror that I'll get an anonymous flame. One time I got a flame in Spanish! It was weird.

Unknown-Dreams: You are evil! You laugh at Spot's trauma! -chuckles- But I take advantage of it, so I guess I'm no better.

BoomerRang: Ben&Jerry's is icky compared to Maggie Moo's. But Coldstone rules the world!

* * *

"I have to hand it to ya, Race," Spot said as he and Race stepped into their dorm room. They had spent the entire day at Maggie Moo's, talking about everything and nothing. "That _was_ good ice cream." Race chuckled. 

"Told ya so." Spot yawned.

"I'm going to bed," he announced searching for his plaid pajama pants. Racetrack averted his eyes politely as Spot stripped down to his boxers and put on his pants. He never slept with a shirt, something that Racetrack had enjoyed immensely. (Though he never mentioned it to Spot.)

Spot fell asleep almost the instant his head hit the pillow, and he began to dream.

_Jack had him up against the wall, hands under his shirt. He pulled the shirt up past his nipples, and then back down again, his fingertips leaving faint white scratches across his skin. Grinning, he leaned forward and kissed Spot fiercely, thrusitng his hips forward. Spot tried to pull away, but he couldn't._

_When Jack pulled away, his hair was spikey and black; his eyes were a pale blue, and a ring was piercing his eyebrow. He grinned wickedly, and terror shot through Spot's body. "You're a pretty little boy, Spot," he said softly, his hands moving down to the waistline of Spot's jeans. "A pretty little boy." He kept repeating it over and over again as he slowly unzipped Spot's jeans._

_Icy hands dove under Spot's boxers and gripped him, as tears began pouring shamelessly down his cheeks. "Don't! Stop!" he cried, faintly, but he ignored Spot's pleas as he began to indulge himself in Spot. _

_"Spot," he hissed, grinning as he jerked painfully._

_"Stop! Please!"_

_"Spot!"_

_"Don't! Get off!"_

"SPOT!"

Spot jerked awake with a gasp, cold sweat covering his entire body. Racetrack was sitting on the bed, practically in his lap, looking white as a sheet with worry. Spot let out the breath he'd been unintentionally holding as his brain registered that he wasn't in any danger.

"You had a bad dream," Race said, quietly. Spot sagged forward and collapsed into Race's arms once again, tears flowing freely. Race murmured to him soothingly, rubbing his fingers over Spot's back in circles.

"It's all right," he whispered, rocking Spot slightly. He eased his position until his back was against the wall, Spot still in his embrace. Spot was sobbing quietly, and Race continued to whisper to him until he fell asleep.

Not wanting to disturb him, Race remained in his position for the night.


End file.
